


First Kiss

by Not_You



Series: Watching [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Body Image, Furykisses, M/M, Multi, Trust, Voyeurism, a bit of leather kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-02 01:49:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint, Phil, and Fury are starting to get the hang of this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Kiss

Clint isn’t drunk, but it’s like being drunk, this giddy, effervescent feeling. It’s like being young again, but only the good parts, and Clint feels like he’s glowing. There may be some real magic involved, because Phil is glowing too, and he lets Clint haul him inside and pin him to the closed door, kissing him hard and then turning him and molding to his back, both of them panting softly as Clint grinds hard against Phil’s ass. Phil scrabbles and clutches at the door, pushing back and moaning when Clint’s hands cover his. Clint shudders and lightly sucks at the point of Phil’s ear, making him quiver and moan. And then Phil’s phone rings.

Loyal SHIELD agents that they are, they stop, Clint’s hands going to rest on Phil’s hips, freeing him to answer it with his customary, “Coulson here.” Clint grips Phil’s hips a little harder, and waits. “Nick,” Phil says softly, and then, “Yes, we’ll wait for you.”

Clint chuckles, and rocks slowly against Phil. “Tell him to hurry.”

“Clint says to hurry,” Phil relays, and chuckles at Fury’s reply. “Right. See you soon.” He hangs up and groans as Clint grinds on him slow and dirty, unbuckling his belt. Phil shudders, and shimmies his hips in that devastating little way that it seems like he shouldn’t even be able to do, sending his perfectly-creased trousers to the floor. Clint growls and bites Phil’s neck, squeezing his ass through those sensible grey boxer-briefs, his thumbs meeting to press meaningfully at Phil’s hole. Phil gasps, and pulls his loosened tie all the way off, tucking it into his jacket pocket before unbuttoning his shirt at lightning speed. Clint purrs, and helps him out of both garments. Phil actually wears an undershirt, so he’s still not fucking naked, but Clint can work with that. They’re supposed to wait for Fury anyway, so Clint helps Phil to gather up his clothes and just gives him a few sweet kisses on the way to the bedroom. He even lets Phil hang everything up before he grabs him again, getting his hands under that damn undershirt and biting Phil’s neck. Phil lets Clint take him to the mattress, loose and unresisting.

“What about you?” Phil purrs, tugging at Clint’s shirt.

“We’re waiting for Fury.”

“Are you saying you have no self-control?”

“Absolutely.” He grins down at Phil, nuzzling his nose before sitting up and peeling his shirt off, flinging it aside. Phil runs his hands over Clint’s chest, and Clint leans into the caress for a long moment before finally peeling Phil out of his underwear and sucking each tiny tan-pink nipple in turn, making Phil writhe and clutch at his back. He loves this, every time, because of how much Phil loves it. He makes these sweet little noises, a look of transported bliss on his flushed face, his hair slipping out of its bureaucratic perfection.

“Oh… oh… _Clint_ , please…” Phil arches up and cries out softly as Clint bites him, just a little. “Yes! Oh, fuck…” He moans as Clint shudders and does the same on the other side.

Fury has the basic courtesy to make some noise on his way in, so they both look up calmly and smile at him. He smiles back, and takes what has become his usual seat by the bed. Clint grins at him.

“Hey. Any special requests?”

“Not tonight,” he says softly, settling himself comfortably. Last time he had wanted Clint on his knees, face down and ass up as Phil had pounded into him. That had been good, but fucking Phil is never going to get old. 

“Lube, sir?” Clint asks, and Phil whimpers.

Fury shivers and passes it over, his glove sliding along Clint’s skin. A moment later, he leans in for their first kiss. Clint is glad he hasn’t turned away, meeting Fury squarely. He feels everything, melting into the gentle scratch of facial hair and the taste of what must be Fury. It’s soft and chaste, but it sends a ripple of hot sensation over his skin. He shivers, and lets Fury pull away. Clint licks his lips. “Thank you, sir. Do I get tongue next time?”

“We’ll see,” Fury says, and sits back to watch, hands folded in his lap. Clint gently works one finger into Phil and then two, watching as Phil wriggles and sighs, opening up easily and gracefully. He mumbles softly about how good it feels, running his hands over and over his own chest, pinching his nipples again. He looks dreamy and happily lost, and Clint just has to kiss him, deep and hungry and with all the tongue Fury withheld. Phil moans, sucking Clint’s tongue into his mouth and relaxing his slick hole even more, his body begging for another finger. Clint is happy to oblige, stretching Phil wide and making him moan.

“Fuck me,” Phil gasps, and Clint slides his fingers out and slithers up to look Phil in the eye as he pushes into him. Phil holds it, mouth soundlessly open as Clint sinks and sinks into him. It seems to take forever, and then Clint is grinding into Phil the way he has been wanting to all night, hard and as deep as he can get. Phil whines, sharp and high, wrapping himself around Clint and urging him deeper and harder still.

“Fuck!” It’s gruff and bitten off and sends a shiver down Clint’s spine. “Fuck, yes, _there_! Oh god Clint, just keep fucking me right there…” His eyes roll back and he groans as Clint does exactly as ordered with his usual perfect aim. He gasps and whines, quivering and keening under Clint. Phil finds a steady rhythm of soft, stricken cries that come just as fast as he can breathe. Clint moans, watching Phil fall apart, flushed, sweaty, and helpless. He’s beautiful, and Clint tells him so, rocking him up and through a long, shuddering orgasm that makes him groan deep in his chest, a loud, low sound that goes on and on until Fury leans in and muffles it in a deep kiss, stroking Phil’s hair. Clint shudders, slowing and easing up as Phil finally goes still. Fury releases him and kisses his forehead. Phil smiles sleepily up at both of them, and Clint smiles back.

“Lemme know when I can move again, sugar.” It’s not the first time the endearment has come out around Fury, but it’s still a little embarrassing. Phil just pulls Clint down into a kiss, rubbing his back soothingly for what seems like forever before gripping Clint’s hips and urging him to start moving again. He does, and builds back up to the brink quickly, going faster and lighter, panting quietly and then crying out softly as he comes deep inside Phil. He shudders for a long and breathless moment, and then relaxes into Phil’s arms, his head on Phil’s chest. He startles a little at Fury’s touch and then relaxes again as that heavy, gloved hand rubs his back. He purrs and Fury ruffles his hair before shifting to massage his neck. “Mm. Your turn next, sir.” The one thing Clint has steadfastly demanded is that Fury lets them watch him come, and now Fury chuckles.

“Won’t take long,” he says, and sits back, easing his cock out. He’s pretty comfortable with this now, and Clint grins at him.

“Damn, I miss your cock when it’s away.”

Phil and Fury both chuckle, and Phil kisses Clint softly. “Yeah, I do too.”

Fury laughs again, soft and breathless, and starts stroking himself slow and hard, head tipping back as his good eye closes. They both watch, unable to look away, hardly blinking as Fury gradually speeds up, growling low in his chest and then fading to soft grunts with each stroke, his grip so tight it makes Clint wince and squirm. Fury bites his lip, hips rocking on the chair and making it squeak faintly. He rocks for a long, desperate moment and then goes still except for his hand, groaning as he spurts white all over black leather. Clint shivers, and Phil kisses his neck.

“Beautiful,” Phil says softly, and Clint nods.

“Yeah.” 

Fury just hums and offers his hand to Clint, who watches its approach with wide eyes and then licks it clean, caressing the leather with his tongue. “Gonna give me a fetish, sir.”

“Good,” Fury murmurs, and leans in to kiss Phil and then Clint. No tongue for either of them, but it’s nice. And Fury actually lies down with them for a while, on top of the covers but definitely still involved in the cuddles. Clint sighs, and buries his face in Fury’s coat, breathing the smell of leather as he drifts off to sleep.


End file.
